


Qrowetry & Stories

by SpyPoet



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpyPoet/pseuds/SpyPoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short series of poems about Qrow and his feelings, most of them involving former Summer/Qrow where he found her dying, and a similar Winter/Qrow ficlet at the end, as well as a very short poem about a Winter/Qrow marriage,  and a poem about how Qrow viewed Ruby/Yang right after Raven disappeared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Qrowetry & Stories

**seasons fade**

 

seasons fade and roses die;  
two times now he was there to watch;  
both similar in ways they passed  
but in temperament never matched;  
his teenage crush and adult need,  
silver eyes and stunning blue;  
black and red to silver and cool;  
a smile never crossed his face  
to hear the seasons mentioned again  
summer fell  
and winter followed  
grieving he fell to autumn  
never shall spring be again  
as the blood that stained his hands  
darken up the barren lands  
never again to see her smile  
or to hear a saucy quip;  
only in his dreams they come  
but then the nightmares overcome  
of red like his eyes staining their clothes  
and of cawing their names in hopeless tones  
seasons fade and roses die  
in their names he will so fly  
in honor of his summer sun   
and of his winter's burn  
to never let their names fade  
and to curse his ability to aid  
late, late, always too late,  
only there to hold them once  
and whisper their names   
as they give their last breath 

* * *

**the kiddos**   
  


and as the bird flew away   
only the golden dragon remained   
and two sparks of life    
one red and pain   
one golden bright   
in them he saw everything   
from his lost summer love   
to the bird that left the roost   
and then he swore he would not give   
his heart again so easily   
and yet they took it    
loud and clear   
his sweet yang,   
and summer's precious ruby, dear

 

* * *

 

**wedding**

winter's snow    
some mistletoe   
a bride in white    
a child too   
a heart repaired, restored, renewed   
in love, sass, family, truth;   
a smile finally crossed his face   
seasons restored   
by winter's grace

* * *

 

**loss**

It had been a standard mission, and Qrow wasn't worried. As much sass as he gave Winter Schnee (Branwen), the woman was truly one of the best operatives Atlas had ever graduate, and he was confident in her abilities. That is, until an alert on his scroll came through that the mission had been understated due to a hidden King Taijitsu pack that had been hiding its' nest in the nearby swamp. A group of King Taijitsu and Death Stalkers... both of them on their own dangerous, but together, practically terrifying... 

... and Winter was out there. 

Qrow's heart stopped in its' chest. This reeked of Summer's last mission all over again, but they didn't get an alert for that, not until it was too late. There was a chance, this time, a chance to not have to do that again- Qrow makes his way out to the field, alighting from crow form just in time to see Winter take on a a King Taijitsu, but too late to stop it from chomping down on her, one of it's fangs going straight through her stomach and all the way out her back. She takes off its' head at least, and the infestation is cleared -

\- but this time, when Qrow blinks, it's not Winter and a snake out there, but it's Summer and a Death Stalker, the yellow piercer sticking through the smaller, quieter woman's' red dress and white cloak. HE blinks again, and he sees Winter collapse, her Atlas uniform pierced, her light blue eyes blazing. Qrow makes his way across the field, for the second time in his life wishing that he had a healing Semblance or Aura of some type, dropping down to his knees next to his wife, adjusting his seat to draw her head into his lap.

"Winter." He says, his voice rough, and he can hear her name - Summer - in a much less rough, but still slightly alcohol infused voice fifteen odd years ago. The woman in his lap looks up at him, the light in her eyes fading. She reaches up to him, one bloodied hand brushing across his left cheek, a counterpoint to Summer's right, and she whispers his name, before the winter's light dies in the world.  


End file.
